


I Won't Get Into A Bar Fight

by CelestiaTrollworth



Series: Aunt Lia's Command Academy [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Drunk Vulcans, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Zoidberg isn't mine either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 03:01:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestiaTrollworth/pseuds/CelestiaTrollworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is actually Part 1 of Aunt Lia's Command Academy, but I don't know how to rearrange them!</p><p>Kirk is going to a party and he won't get into a bar fight. After all, he's going to be with some of his favorite Vulcans and they won't let anything happen to him.<br/>Riiiiiiight.<br/>I don't own any of the Star Trek universe, but am grateful to everyone who lets us all play in it. Also thanks to all of those at the Vulcan Language Institute, rihan.com and elsewhere around the Net as they generously make up the languages we need. Dr. Zoidberg isn't mine either, of course, but I couldn't resist having him do a cameo.<br/>I'm taking V'tosh k'turr to mean a Vulcan who lives without conforming to the Code of Surak. Lia is not only an outcast, but also a former resident of the Romulan Empire, which is why she lapses into Romulan and has Kirk doing the same...they have a history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Won't Get Into A Bar Fight

“You're going to get into a bar fight.”

“Relax, Bones. It's not even a formal reception, it's a casual meet and greet after the Federation Conference debates. Spock is going to be with me and his family will be there. How rough can it get? The worst that's going to happen is some bad karaoke, good booze and better live music.” Kirk admired himself in the mirror. Occasions to wear civvies were few and far between in space, and he thought the just slightly tight shirt played up his arms when he flexed. “Like the gun show?”

“I'd feel better if you were in chain mail. I'll make sure we have plenty of ice and regen packs. Want a fresh epi-hypo for when you inevitably eat something you're allergic to?”

“You redefine 'no fun.' I took my antihistamines, so there. Sure you don't want to go?”

“Somebody has to be here, sober and not in the brig.”

“Well...we know Spock will be sober.” The Vulcan in question appeared in what, for him, passed for civilian clothing. As near as Kirk could tell, most Vulcan males owned a couple of shirts in black and/or brown, a couple of pairs of pants in black and/or brown, a long coat in one color or the other and, if they were real rebels, a shirt that might be a shade of tan. Spock wasn't even that adventurous. Everything he owned was black, and when he suited up he looked slightly less threatening than a rabid bear. He had mentioned that only the prospect of seeing his father for the first time in almost a year made up for having to attend what looked suspiciously like a party.

Uhura, on the other hand, was stunning in black pants and a silky red and gold tunic with a matching headwrap. She accepted Kirk's compliment. “Thank you. It's more practical than a dress, much easier to fight in.”

“We're not going to—Come on, Spock, tell her.”

“I did. Vulcan families with or without logic, even before the Loss, have traditionally been extremely _protective_ of family. And anyone they think of as theirs.”

Bones might have been about to make a smart remark, judging by the look in his eyes, but Kirk cut him off. “Trust me. You don't want to know _how_ protective.”

“Captain, you failed to explain yourself to Dr. McCoy, when an explanation might have--”

“I wasn't going to tell him that when your father asked me where you were after that stunt with the _Jellyfish_ , I'm pretty sure some of the words he used didn't translate properly, and he only needed one hand to dangle me in midair where the Romulan needed two.”

Kirk could have sworn Spock was smirking. “Fortunately, Vulcan fathers are much less protective than mothers.”

When they arrived at the venue, they found a large conference hall set up with tables around the edges, room for dancing in the middle, food and drink tables off to the sides and a small stage in a corner beside a door. It was out of the question for Spock's father to embrace him, but from a Vulcan father, that little half-smile and warm eyes were a bear hug and a standing ovation. “You all look well,” Sarek said. “Was your journey uneventful?”

“It was, _sa'mi_. Yours?”

He glanced around and lowered his voice still more. “I was with your aunt.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. The _Enterprise_ was docked beside the sleek black _Carbon Creek_ , Sarek's formerly outcast sister's massive new flagship. Nothing on the _v'tosh_ _k'turr_ Vulcan Navy vessel was likely to be uneventful. “You do look as if you have regained a bit of weight.”

“Two kilos, all of it from the trip here. Your aunt cannot see me without putting a plate of food or an eligible woman in front of me, if not both.” He held up a hand lightly, looking down. “I know. It must happen at some point. It need not happen yet.”

“Just so. How is your progress in healer training?”

Kirk realized he'd gained a lot of skill at reading muted Vulcan expressions, like Sarek's relief to change the subject. “Nearly done in theory, but there is always much to learn. Had I pursued it earlier, many more healers could have advised me. As it is, extensive archival material has been the best I could do to supplement the few opinions I have at hand.”

“I understand the conference is not as productive as you would wish.”

“Indeed not. This has been a tiring affair. I should continue to circulate and try to gather support for tomorrow's vote, though it is an unattractive prospect. The tension over current military conditions has been building, and the Andorians are not willing to negotiate.”

“Oh, look,” Uhura said brightly, “there's an interesting selection of musical instruments. What's that stringed one that looks like an extended sitar?” Two of the Andorians were finishing a duet. They went off to the bar and left the stage to three border Klingons who launched into a loud and discordant honor song accompanied by steins of beer. The lyrics caused Uhura to hide guffaws behind a napkin. She leaned up to explain them to Spock, who looked faintly alarmed and amused at the same time.

“ _Khart-lan_ Kurrk.” Breath on the back of his neck failed to startle him, coming as it did just after the warm wash of a friendly aura. “You're behaving yourself admirably.”

“And you appear to be an admirable admiral, _rekkhai_. How's the new addition?”

“I thought you'd never ask.” Admiral T'Lia was almost as tall as her brother and as deadly fit as Spock. She had put up her long silver-streaked black hair and for once was thoroughly out of uniform in a bright headband and many-strapped black top that exposed a new silver calligraphy tattoo on her left shoulder. She showed him a brief vid of a round, wide-eyed baby in her proud husband's arms. “Her name is Ta'an, 'great gift'.”

“She won't be spoiled.”

“Of course not. Not only her brother, but the entire fourth watch in Engineering is tending to her tonight so Lhairre and I could be here. So how has my nephew really been getting along?”

“Well enough. Nyota is making sure he eats and sleeps on a regular schedule and I haven't got him hurt enough for sickbay on an away mission in at least four months.”

“No serious injuries in four months? For our family, that's some kind of record. I'm trying to keep a low profile so as not to stir things up any worse than they already are here.”

He nearly choked on a pretzel. She _was_ trying to be subtle, but the effect was a peacock hiding in a chicken coop. “I like the new ink.”

She admired it a bit herself. “I couldn't have it until I was permanently back on this side. It used to be standard for _v'tosh_ _k'turr_ so we'd get space burial. 'My home is in the stars' is one of those statements you don't take back. Even so, it's all anyone has left now.--Hmmm.”

“This party looks so calm,” he said, eyeing the same areas she was obviously concerned about. “Can I ask who you're watching?”

“That Andorian is not an Andorian, unless I've forgotten all I ever knew about the Romulans.” Every conference had a half-dozen fakes; it was almost a sport to pick them out. “He's listening, not looking for trouble. Ours probably, theirs maybe, Sarek noticed him but said nothing so I'd guess he's one of ours and trying to get his tradecraft straight. We could have fun with him had I not promised Lhairre I wouldn't get thrown in the brig. On the off chance he's theirs, he'd be honor-bound to try to kill me, of course, and that wouldn't end well.”

 _Likely it would end worse for him_ , Kirk thought. “How about the little Orion man over there? I've seen three guys tell him to get lost.”

“Very good, Jim. That one is going to be in a fight before the night is over and I'm not sure why unless he's...oh, never mind, he's prosyletizing. Let's get a drink, shall we?” She had security in the crowd, Kirk knew, but Lia was the only Vulcan woman he knew who wore a thick gold wedding band, well-worn and suspiciously heavy. He wondered how many teeth it had knocked out over the years.

The Klingons stopped bellowing, allowing Sarek and Spock to pick over the instruments and play with Uhura singing. Kirk had grown used to live music in the _Enterprise's_ wardroom. Lia listened and a soft smile crept over her face. “I never thought I'd hear that again.”

“Your brother?”

“I thought we'd lost him in _va'Pak_ , then I thought we'd surely lose him after. It was months before our friend Davy could coax him into even picking up any instrument and longer before he got back to playing every day the way he used to. It's always been his best meditation. And that he and Spock can play together...”

“Is he all right on New Vulcan?”

“There are two other new babies in the family with parents living right there at D'H'Riset, so he's not alone, and that's what I worried most about. Yes, I worried. He's my little brother. So. Who can I fix you up with?”

The straightforward question would have taken him aback from elsewhere. “Don't know. I'm still seeing Carol Marcus, but we're nowhere near exclusive.”

“Girl in every port, not sure about men? One particular man?” She slapped his back since he had choked on the wine she had handed him. “You're really married to the ship, anyhow. That's the perk of being an admiral: the use of fine ships without the captain's responsibility for them.”

“Just for life, death, major galactic war, that kind of thing.”

She gazed at him, laid a hand lightly on his wrist and barely brushed his mind. “You want to be touched by someone who has no intention of hurting you and doesn't want to use you. Fine, there. What happened when you were a child was wrong. You need reminded. I'll remind you. Why now?”

“Damn, you _are_ good. It's been heavy on my mind since that last mission, and Spock and I kind of got into each other about it. In other words, he was sulking and I was being snotty to him all week.”

Those armor-piercing hazel eyes knew too much. “Tell me.”

He swirled the wine in his glass to the soft beat of the music. “New colony, insufficient contact because they were separatists, bad harvest, worse winter, settlement in a marginal spot. Another bad year started, so there was the usual seed stock versus immediate need fight, hungry children acting up and angry adults losing control. Nothing unusual.”

“Merely too familiar. But you were there in ample time to help, were you not?” He nodded. “Before conditions were even close to Tarsus 4 there was help, food, order once again imposed, even if it had to be a vaguely uncomfortable encounter with Starfleet until the adults calmed down and supplies came from the settlement's parent organization. Did anyone die?”

When she put it that way...“No, _rekkhai_. It was close for a few, but no one died.”

“Then you did well. I've had this conversation with my little fireball of a daughter more than once, and I've been there myself. I was never starved the way you were, but for a Vulcan child growing up when I did...what humans would think of as abuse was far too close to the norm. Being an adult when you aren't done being a child is bothersome. I promise it can be overcome.”

“And your brother's the one learning to be a healer,” he said.

“We all have to learn. You'll find your way.” She had continued to watch the room, even while she was talking to him. “We're going to be here at least three more days. Come over for breakfast tomorrow if you'll be as bored as we will. You haven't heard all my self-aggrandizing war stories yet.”

Something told him they wouldn't be self-aggrandizing, but before he could say that, a minor squabble broke out on the other side of the room. The Orion had offended another man enough to earn a snarl from...all Kirk could call him was a uniformed lobster. Another Orion retrieved the obnoxious one. “My apologies, Ambassador Zoidberg, his faith's idea of what is appropriate differs from many others' and he's been impossible tonight.”

“Think nothing of it, madam, and thank you,” the lobster said with a polite little bow. The Orions walked away and the lobster scuttled by muttering “Oy, what a crazy universe.”

Lia nudged Kirk. “Buffet table. Fake Andorian. Romulan or Vulcan and why do you know?”

The target was looking over the buffet as if he were trying not to be too interested in a particular plate. Kirk waited. The man used the table's tongs to put a few of whatever it was onto a plate and went off shoving them into his mouth.

“Romulan. I don't know what that is, but Spock was eating it by holding some in a napkin.” She went to the table and retrieved a few of the objects, saltine-sized, dark brown slivers. “Very good, Jim. These are Klingon dark chocolate crackers, which to us might as well be dark chocolate crack. He was eating them with his fingers. That's really hard to make yourself do if you were born on this side. We can't get the recipe right for the replicator and they're incredibly good. Well, to Klingons and Vulcans they are.” He tried one. They were, as he had suspected, hard as rocks, unsweetened and intense. “Well, now, there's my chief of security pretending he doesn't know any of us...” she looked down for a moment, concentrating, and the security chief raised his head in their direction. The tiny visual signals that passed between them had to have been augmented, because the chief began to amble to the buffet as two Vulcan embassy staffers quietly occupied a nearby doorway. “That's my cue.” She went up behind the Andorian and bumped into him. “ _Veherr_.”

“ _Oiuu'n mnek'nra, Daise-_ -” He froze.

Lia held out a hand and made a little walking motion with her index and middle fingers, nodding toward the security chief. She motioned Kirk out into the hallway with them. “Almost good enough, Jhan. I didn't recognize you until we made physical contact. You have the mannerisms perfect. The crackers got you.”

“ _Ie_ , _rekkhai_. I mean _s'haile_. This seemed like a good place to try before anything big happens.”

“It is. Good costume, good movement, but you reacted to the wrong language and went after food that is nearly irresistible to us but which the vast majority of Andorians regard as worse than floor tile. Do a little more research and develop better selective deafness. Use this experience and you'll be very good.” She broke off from him and Kirk saw her go on a very subtle but clear full alert. A shift of her eyes led the security guards closer to the stage, where the trio had taken a break and were walking off discussing one of the songs they had played.

“What?” Kirk asked her quietly.

“That real Andorian, the ambassador's aide I think, seems far too interested in my little brother, and I don't think his musical talent is the attraction.” Kirk was about to dismiss that until he thought of why that might be especially unfortunate. Lia's husband was drifting over as well, getting between the other and Sarek in a manner so casual it wouldn't have attracted notice from anyone. She strolled over to join him in a manner that was no more casual than Kirk's own.

“You two,” Lhairre sighed. “We can dress you up, but we can't take you anywhere.”

“We haven't been in a single fight!” she protested mildly.

“Yet,” Spock added.

The open mic had gone to a trio of Terrans who, after a couple of false starts, began to play some vigorous dance music. Uhura flashed her most reassuring smile, which at the moment wasn't very. “Come on, Captain, why don't we?” Taking his arm, she steered him out into the dance floor.

“Spock isn't going to be upset...?”

“He'd better not be. He doesn't dance, and you've had four guys ogling you since you walked in. Unless you don't mind their starting a fight over you, dance with me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Andorian talking with Sarek and Lia. It didn't look like the prelude to open warfare; the man appeared to be showing them his wrist and Sarek seemed to be interested, asking questions. Uhura began to giggle. “What?”

“He's cornering a healer at a party for free medical advice.”

He laughed in relief. “Now I feel like an idiot. On the other hand...”

“On the other hand, the minute you _don't_ have your head on a swivel is when something does happen, and we promised Dr. McCoy you weren't going to get into a bar fight.”

The drunk Orion escaped his keeper and attempted to cut in on the dance by shoving his back in Nyota's face. The same exasperated woman caught his arm and pulled him away, nowhere nearly as gently that time. “I'm so sorry. Rill, you need to go back to the room, and I mean _now_.”

“There's nobody who wants to have sex here!” Rill was clearly outraged and just as clearly ready to do a face plant into the broccoli dip.

“Tell me about it,” said a synthesized voice coming from what Kirk had assumed was a bowl of red fruit dip on a motorized stand. “The big pointy green broad has been ignoring me all night and the little piece of hot chocolate danced right past without so much as a hello.”

Rill brightened briefly. “Do _you_ want to have sex? I can figure out how to--”

“With some big green drunk guy? Hell no. And don't dunk that cracker in my head, either.”

Sarek glided up between them. “I see you've met Ambassador Gurk of Deneb.”

“More's the pity,” Lia muttered. From her brother's momentary twitch, she had repeated his thoughts. The ambassador slithered up in his bowl and extended a pseudopod toward her rear in the apparent impression that she wouldn't notice. “Do. Not. Even. I would just _love_ to kick your glass.”

The Orion was virtually ecstatic at the sight of Sarek. “Since he won't, does your brother--”

“Rill, seriously.” The Orion woman had summoned a couple of assistants. “Please forgive me for not having better control over my junior staffers. We value all of our people, even those who are postulants from the Temple of Love, but some of them are a little overly enthusiastic in prosyletizing traditional Orion sexuality.”

“Ah,” Uhura made a gesture, half-bowed and spoke a formal phrase. The woman was thrilled.

“Oh, you say that beautifully! May you also be multi-orgasmic at every encounter. How did you learn Orion?”

“My roommate. Gaila taught me a lot about your society.”

Spock appeared to be developing a headache, even if Kirk heard him think _And a lot of other things_. The woman glanced back and forth among them. “You're all lovely and I hope you have wonderful sex together. Have a good evening and once again, please forgive me for letting Rill get so pushy. He's young and needs much more experience with other cultures.”

“No offense must be taken where none was intended,” Spock said as she steered Rill away.

Sarek looked after them. “In all things, a calm heart must prevail.”

Lia had her nose in a wineglass. “ _Sa'kai'kam_ , that isn't Surak. You cribbed that from the ancient video game reboot my daughter's crew was playing. Furthermore, it's what the giant supermutant says just before he dismembers someone while shouting 'Too fun!'”

Sarek busied himself with his own glass, mumbling what could have been “We can only hope.”

“You're getting bored to an unhealthy degree. You and Spock go play pretty music. Go. Shoo.” She made the same little walking motion. Sarek half-smirked at her, but led Spock back to the currently unoccupied stage. “I need to quit doing that. It's far too Romulan and over here it would be insulting if he wasn't my baby brother, but I don't want him getting in trouble over that half-grown kid when he'd much rather tie into Shras about the whole question at hand.”

“Good old Rill there is 3-D,” Uhura sighed. “Drunk, desperate and determined.”

“Uff. That's why you called me that back when,” Kirk gulped. She didn't deny it. “Never mind. I usually was. So the Orions actually _believe_...?”

“Not all of them, but the Temple of Love is hardcore. They go around handing out literature about having lots and lots and _lots_ of sex as a means to achieve holiness.”

He couldn't resist even though he knew it wouldn't end well. “Maybe I'm Saint Jim?”

“Just call me Mother Superior,” Lia said blandly.

Lhairre overheard and elbowed her in a rude and very friendly way. “Only in the Church of Starship Captains where you all worship yourselves.”

Uhura eyed the doorway to make sure Rill hadn't escaped again. “I take it that one has been away from his usual company too long. He's lost whatever inhibitions he...well, isn't supposed to have, but I do know Gaila was very clear that she wasn't supposed to keep hitting on anyone who said no.”

The Orion lady went by again. “You're exactly right, dear. We wish everyone understood the joy of loving universally, but we respect those who restrict themselves. Oh, that poor thing. He hasn't been around a lot of strong drink and he's going to be really sorry tomorrow.”

In the next hour, there were a couple of brief Tellarite-Andorian squabbles, some dirty looks between the Klingon envoy and the Border Romulan ambassador, and a lot of surprisingly good music because father and son appeared to be inspired and tried a lot of different styles. Uhura sang, Lia and Lhairre sat at a table and played finger games under the table that amounted to a Vulcan makeout session, and Kirk gave up on finding anybody to make out with in favor of listening to the music and nibbling on things he knew were safe. Everyone was having a stunningly good time...

...except a 3D Rill who resurfaced from a different door about to achieve a fourth dimension of “disgusting.” He wobbled over to their stage-side table and woozily identified Lia as the universal keeper. “Shorrry I din't unnderstan before. It's a paid thing with you pointy people, innit? How much for your men here?”

Lia had briefly abandoned hand jive with her husband for a plate of the chocolate crackers. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your men, for the night. I'd like the two musicians.”

She had been about to put a cracker in her mouth and the comment caused her to snap it between her teeth. “No. They would not be interested.”

“Darn. Can I rent this big pointy guy and the little round-ear one with the pretty hair, then?” He motioned to Lhairre and Kirk.

“No, they're not prostitutes either. If they were interested, they'd have said so, and this one is spoken for.” She made the gesture. “Move along.”

“What kind of party has nobody who wants to have sex and not even prostitutes? This is outrageous. Does the Federation have the slightest clue about how to show us a good time?” He burped and began to lurch off, but his mouth forced him to turn around and sneer at Lhairre. “I bet the big one with pointy ears would be lousy in bed anyhow.”

Kirk's mouth fell open, but Lia continued to look bored as she set down her wine glass, grabbed the Orion's scruff and threw him over her shoulder toward her security guards. She picked the glass up again, drained the rest of it and put the remaining chocolate crackers on a napkin, folding it neatly and stowing it in her pocket as she stood up in a way that looked leisurely, but was more like cocking a rifle. Uhura set her empty glass down and cracked her knuckles before she pulled the pins out of her hair and Lia did the same. The expected thump of the Orion's landing was a yelp instead, and in a second both he and an Andorian were airborne in a return flight over their table. The next soaring body was a Klingon, who looked very surprised to be in midair. As soon as he landed, he swung at the Andorian again and the two of them rolled off across the floor.

 

“It was hard to tell the players without a scorecard.” Kirk winced at McCoy's application of skin sealer. “I think one of the Vulcans got me with a cracker he was using for a throwing star.”

“How's your father, Spock?”

“He was not seriously injured. He was attempting to defend the Andorian ambassador Shras and tripped over him because Shras was rather zealously attempting to defend Sarek at the same instant. Mutual back spasms confined both of them to the floor after they tossed the offending Klingon back to his people. They managed to conclude negotiations agreeably while they were under the buffet table mopping up and returning the Denebian ambassador to his container. They had not fully appreciated how closely the Andorians' genetic situation mirrors our own; they also have a limited gene pool and poor reproductive rate, so Father and Shras exchanged information that will be mutually beneficial.”

“And you claim bar fights never solve anything,” Kirk snorted at Bones, who was rolling his eyes.

“I'm just grimacing at the idea of replacement hobgoblins. First thing you know there'll be little white-haired blue-green hybrids running around.”

“With both species so limited, that would be illogical.”

“What did you all do with the admiral?”

“She isn't in the brig either,” Kirk offered.

McCoy knew them all too well. He folded his arms. “Because...?”

“It's full of Orions,” Uhura admitted. “And Tellarites.”

“Who got there when...?”

“Um...the Vulcans have a really good security squad. They didn't put the Orions and Tellarites in the same cell. The Tellarites will sober up safely and the Orions...well...they're in the Carbon Creek's VIP brig suite and there's a bed in there. They don't mind. At all.”

“And the small explosion?”

“An accident,” Spock mumbled. “ _Sa'kuk_ Lhairre and I were removing a Tellarite when he knocked over one of the Galacians' personal heaters. It was easily remedied without casualties.”

“I told you,” the doctor intoned, “you would get into a bar fight.”

“But Bones, I didn't get into a bar fight,” Kirk protested. He looked at Spock. “ _He_ did.”

“But my aunt started it on your behalf.” Spock gave them all a smoky glare. “I will go off to meditate. And none of you is going to get any of the chocolate crackers. Or the recipe from the Klingon envoy.”


End file.
